


Off Script

by arysa13



Series: 2020 Kink Meme Fills [3]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Porn actors, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:21:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22377856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arysa13/pseuds/arysa13
Summary: Clarke needs a fast way to pay tuition. Raven suggests the film company on campus that does porn. Clarke likes sex, so why not? When she gets there, she finds out exactly why Bellamy wouldn't look her in the face when Raven suggested it
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Series: 2020 Kink Meme Fills [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1607062
Comments: 15
Kudos: 303
Collections: Bellarke smut, The 100 Kinkmeme Round 2020





	Off Script

As it turns out, selling her art over the internet isn’t as lucrative as Clarke would have liked, and even on top of her part time job at the campus bookstore, it isn’t enough to cover her tuition.

Once upon a time she had a college fund, that her parents set up for her as soon as she was born. But her mom blew half of it on pills, and then the rest of it when she tried to gamble what she’d spent back. Clarke knows Abby feels guilty about it, and she’s in rehab now – but it’s not enough for Clarke to forgive her.

“I’m out of ideas,” Clarke bemoans to Raven and Bellamy, the two of them sitting across from her at a café on campus. Bellamy shouted her iced coffee out of pity. “I’m going to have to drop out.”

“Clarke, come on,” Bellamy urges. “You can’t drop out. You’ve only got a year left.”

“Well, it’s either drop out or become a hooker. Because nothing else is going to pay well enough to cover the school fees,” Clarke shrugs. She’s acting nonchalant about it, because she doesn’t want to worry her friends. But truthfully, she’s devastated.

“Okay, well, illegal,” Raven points out. “But there’s always porn.”

“I don’t know if it’s as easy to get into porn as you think it is,” Clarke rolls her eyes. Honestly, doing porn doesn’t sound like the worst thing. She’s kind of into the idea of having sex in front of people anyway, and it’s not like she’s aiming for a career in politics where it could be potentially life ruining.

“Wrong,” Raven says, with her usual know-it-all smirk. “There’s a film company on campus who does porn.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Raven, she’s not going to do porn,” Bellamy says, rolling his eyes. Clarke raises an eyebrow at him, but he’s looking down at his drink, playing with his straw. Raven ignores him.

“They actually pay really well too. I think the girl who started it is like…loaded.”

Clarke chews her lip. Could she actually do this? Star in porn? Assuming they would want her. But she’s a blonde with big tits, isn’t that the only things they’re looking for?

“Clarke,” Bellamy chokes out. “You’re not actually considering this are you?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“It’s—it’s degrading,” he says. His face is redder than she’s ever seen it, and honestly, she’s kind surprised at his reaction. And also, kind of annoyed. She didn’t think he’d be the kind of person who would look down on sex work.

“It’s a company owned by a woman,” Raven points out. “It’s all supposed to be directed for the female gaze.”

“Still,” Bellamy splutters. “Fucking for other people’s entertainment? Come on, Clarke—it’s not exactly dignified.”

“Well, you don’t have to watch it,” Clarke snaps. Bellamy flinches and he looks back to his iced coffee. Clarke turns her attention back to Raven. “Who do I have to talk to?”

-

The owner of the company, Josephine Lightbourne, is all too happy to have Clarke on board. She barely makes her audition, taking one look at her and declaring her to be perfect for the new film her head writer has been working on. She sends Clarke the script and tells her to be ready to film the following weekend.

Clarke still isn’t speaking to Bellamy. He’s tried to message her a few times, to apologise, but she leaves him on read, still annoyed at his attitude towards women who work in porn. As if she hasn’t caught him watching girls get tied up and spanked on a number of occasions. He’s hardly subtle about it.

Well, if he looks down on those women, he can look down on her too, because the sum of money Josie has offered her is a fucking fortune compared to the peanuts she’s making on her art commissions.

The shoot is to take place at Josie’s house—which turns out to be an intimidating looking mansion, complete with wrought iron gates and an intercom. She supposes Josie still lives with her parents, and wonders how they let their daughter get away with shooting porn in their house, or if they even know. Clarke has never known anyone _this_ rich before.

She’s buzzed through the gates, and she tries not to feel nervous as she walks up the driveway to the front door, where she’s greeted by Josie herself, who leads her upstairs to her bedroom for hair and make-up.

“So, you read the script, right?” Josie says, and Clarke meets her eyes in the mirror, while a woman named Jade does her hair.

“Yes.”

“And you’re all good with everything? Because I don’t want you backing out halfway through and having to step in myself.”

“I’m not going to back out.”

“Promise?”

“Oh my god, I promise. I want to do this. It’s just sex for fuck’s sake, with a bit of roleplay. I can handle it,” Clarke huffs. Josie’s lack of faith in Clarke’s reliability is annoying.

Josie breathes a sigh of relief, and Clarke softens a little. It must be a hard gig, and Josie has probably had actors back out at the last minute before.

“Okay, when your hair and make-up is done, put your costume on and come downstairs and you can meet your co-star, and the rest of the crew.”

Clarke’s stomach flips over. Right, it’s not going to be just her and Josie and a random guy—there’s a whole _crew_. But she can totally do this. The money is worth it. “Okay, sure,” she says, hoping Josie hadn’t noticed her moment of hesitation.

Josie leaves the room, and Jade finishes with Clarke’s hair and make-up, then she leaves Clarke to put on her costume. It’s a French maid’s outfit, and totally unrealistic, of course. Clarke pulls off her underwear and puts the dress on, squeezing it over her tits, where they spill out over the top ridiculously. The skirt only just covers her ass.

“Completely impractical for cleaning in,” Clarke mutters, as if that’s what matters in porn. Maybe that’s why she’s never been that into watching porn—she has to pick at all the plot holes.

Still, she looks hot, and that’s what matters. It’s not like she’ll be wearing the dress long anyway, once her character “accidentally” spills cleaning product on the dress and has to take it off, just as the owner of the house comes home. It’s a weak plot, if Clarke says so herself.

She shrugs on her robe over the dress, takes a deep breath and heads downstairs to the kitchen, where the shoot is taking place. Clarke _really_ hopes Josie’s parents don’t come home.

She steps into the kitchen, where Josie is chatting to who presumably is Clarke’s co-star, dressed in a business suit, who, Clarke realises, looks sickeningly familiar. Her stomach drops. Is it too late to back out?

He turns his head, and Clarke freezes in the doorway. He doesn’t look surprised. Just guilty as hell.

“Bellamy?” she squeaks out.

“Fuck,” he whispers. “I didn’t really think you’d come.”

“She better fucking come,” Josie huffs. “Or be really good at faking it. Clarke, this is Bellamy, Bellamy, Clarke. Or as the script says, Carly and Mr Roberts.”

Clarke is only half listening to Josie. She can’t stop staring at Bellamy in his suit, looking ridiculously gorgeous as usual. She has to fuck him. Her best friend, who she’s always made sure to keep things strictly platonic with. But now she has to fuck him, on camera, as someone else. And that is so not the way she wanted it to go with him. But she can’t back out.

Then, as she recovers from her shock, she remembers that she’s mad at him.

“ _This_ is why you were such a dick the other day? You didn’t want me to know you did porn?”

“It wasn’t just that,” Bellamy says. “I knew there was a good chance they’d pair us together.”

“So it was because you don’t want to fuck me?” Clarke huffs. “If the idea repulses you that much, you can leave.”

“I can’t. I need the money,” Bellamy says. Clarke tries not to feel hurt that he doesn’t deny that the idea of fucking her repulses him.

She lifts her chin. “Well, so do I.”

His jaw clenches. He does that a lot. When he’s angry, mostly, or frustrated. But she’s not going to back down. She needs the money, and she promised Josie.

“Are you two finished?” Josie says with a roll of her eyes. “We have an adult film to shoot. I don’t care about your weird personal problems, you can sort them out later.”

“We’re good,” Clarke says, still looking at Bellamy, daring him to back out.

He looks to Josie. “Yeah, we’re good.”

Josie briefly introduces Clarke to the rest of the crew, and to Clarke’s relief, they’re all women. While it does bring her some comfort, it’s not enough to ease the churning in her gut that started the moment she saw Bellamy standing there in the kitchen. He’s going to see her naked. He’s going to see her naked and he won’t look at her with worship in his eyes, the way he always does in her imagination.

Sure, he’ll act turned on, because that’s what he’s getting paid to do. But inside he’ll be disgusted, or worse, _amused_ by her naked body. She doesn’t know if she can bear it. God, why does the thought of her best friend seeing her naked bring her more anxiety than random strangers on the internet?

Then he’s going to fuck her, and he’ll probably hate every second of it, and they’ll never be able to look each other in the eye again. This is the end of their friendship, Clarke knows it. She glances at him, chewing her lip. Is it worth it?

But then Josie is ordering them to take their places, and Clarke hastily removes her robe, revealing her costume. She glances at Bellamy, who still hasn’t moved to take his place, and he tears his eyes away from her, looking almost—guilty?

He quickly takes his place, and Clarke finds hers too. She closes her eyes for a moment, taking a few deep breaths. She can do this. She just has to pretend she’s Carly the housekeeper, and he’s Mr Roberts, her sexy boss. At least the sexy part won’t take much imagination.

Clarke opens her eyes, just as Josie calls “Action!”

The first part is easy. All she has to do is pretend to clean, while bending over a lot and showing off her ass and pussy to the camera, as well as her ample cleavage. It’s over the top, and ridiculous, and if she’s being honest, kind of embarrassing, though everyone in the crew remains blank-faced as she shows herself off. They’ve probably seen all this before.

She pretends Bellamy isn’t waiting in the doorway, out of shot, watching her. She’s hyper aware of him anyway, and she feels like every movement is hindered by nerves, and she’s not playing it up nearly as much as she should be, because she doesn’t feel sexy, because _he_ doesn’t think she is. Which is fucking stupid, because she knows she is, because she wouldn’t have decided to do this in the first place if she didn’t think she was. But somehow his opinion has more of an effect on her self-confidence than she’d care to admit.

After a couple of minutes of peacocking around, Josie gives Clarke the signal to spill the cleaning product on herself, which is actually just a blank white bottle filled with lube, with a handmade label on it that reads _all-purpose cleaning product._

She tips it on herself, and she’s sure there’s no way it looks accidental, but it will have to do. The lube soaks her dress, and she gasps, then stares at it for a moment, seeing as her character seems to be a stereotypical dumb blonde.

And then she has to do it. Take her clothes off. Her heart is thumping so hard it hurts. She can’t help but glance at him, even though she’s not supposed to, and he’s watching, his jaw tighter than she’s ever seen it.

Her eyes drop to the floor as she slips her arms out of the dress first, then pushes it down over her tits. They jiggle, only slightly. Her nipples are hard. Probably great for porn, but she can’t stop thinking about what Bellamy thinks of her. She tries to tell herself she doesn’t care, but the knot in her stomach tells her differently.

She pushes the dress down further, until it falls to the floor, pooling at her feet. She doesn’t dare look over at Bellamy. Doesn’t want to think about the fact that she’s completely on display, and that the camera doesn’t bother her, she doesn’t care about what Josie, or Emori, or Harper thinks of her body. Only him.

She stands there, completely exposed, for what feels like an eternity, though it must only be a few seconds. Still, nothing happens, until Josie hisses, _“Bellamy_ ,” and finally, Bellamy swaggers into the shot.

“What’s going on here?” he says gruffly.

“Mr Roberts!” Clarke gasps, throwing her hands over her body. “What are you doing home?” she swallows, meeting his eye. She’s never seen him look so intimidating. The scene may be fake, but the blush covering her body, and the arousal leaking from her cunt, are very very real.

“This is my house,” he reminds her. “I can come home whenever I please. What I’d like to know is why my housekeeper is walking around naked in my kitchen.”

He shrugs his jacket off, tosses it onto a bar stool, then loosens his tie, his intense gaze never leaving her.

“I spilled cleaning product on my uniform,” Clarke says pathetically. “I was hoping to clean it up before you got home.”

“Well, you failed. I guess you’ll just have to finish the job naked.”

“Yes, sir,” Clarke says. She nods meekly. She’s still clutching her tits and pussy like her life depends on it. She almost feels like her life does depend on it.

Bellamy walks over to the stool where he’d thrown his jacket and makes himself comfortable. “I’ll just sit here and watch. Make sure you do it properly.”

Clarke nods. “Yes, sir,” she whispers, though she doesn’t mean to. Seeing him like this is doing something to her—something about her being naked in front of him, while he bosses her around. And the way he’s looking at her—she could almost believe he actually wants her. Who knew he was such a good actor?

Clarke resumes her cleaning, walking over to the sink to do the dishes, which means she has to drop her hands, reveal herself to him again. Her cunt throbs at the way his adam’s apple bobs when his eyes drop to her bare cunt. She hopes he can’t tell how wet she is. Hopes it isn’t obvious how aroused this is making her.

She’s facing away with him as she pretends to wash a plate, side-on to the camera. It’s only a few seconds before she hears him get up, and her heart lodges in her throat. This is the part where he touches her.

“You look like you could use some help,” he says, and Clarke can’t help but wonder how he puts on that husky voice that makes him sound like he’s turned on.

Clarke glances over her shoulder to see him pulling his shirt off as he saunters over to her. She looks away shyly. Thank fuck her character is supposed to be just as bashful as she’s feeling right now.

She can’t see him, but she can feel him behind her, though he isn’t touching her yet. Every hair on her body stands on end, her every nerve screams out for him to touch her. He pauses, probably only for dramatic effect, not because he’s as hesitant about this as she is, right? He just sees this as a job—like Clarke would, had she been working with anyone else.

His hands slide over her stomach, and Clarke leans back, so her back his pressed against his bare chest. Fuck, his body feels so perfect against hers. Like it was meant to be there.

His hands are huge, and Clarke has never realised quite how big they are, until he’s cupping her tits, and he can almost cover them whole. Fuck. He’s touching her tits. Massaging them gently with his big, rough hands, her nipples rubbing against his palms.

“Mr Roberts,” Clarke breathes, vaguely remembering she’s supposed to be shooting a porno right now. “What are you doing?”

“Doesn’t it feel good, Carly? My hands on your tits?”

“Yes, sir,” Clarke says. It’s not a lie. She’s leaking from her cunt onto her thighs, and she has to press them together to try and stop the pressure from building inside her.

“Of course it does. Tits like yours need to be properly attended to,” he says. “Now, why don’t you wipe down the counter, and I’ll help you with that too.”

He drops his hands, and Clarke obediently trots over to the counter with the dishcloth in her hand. She leans over the counter, much lower than necessary, sticking her ass out, spreading her legs. Her nipples rub against the cool marble.

She shivers as Bellamy runs his hand over her ass. She sinks her teeth into her bottom lip as his fingers brush against her folds. There’s no way he can’t tell how turned on she is. God, she’s never going to be able to look at him again after this. He’ll always know what her cunt tastes like. What she sounds like when she comes.

The whimper she lets out when he sinks his finger into her isn’t faked. She hopes he thinks it is.

“Mr Roberts,” Clarke says, only remembering his character’s name at the last second. “Please. I can’t do my job with your fingers in me. It feels too good.”

“Your job is to please me,” Bellamy growls. Clarke’s stomach flips over. Oh god. All she wants to do is please him.

“Do I not please you, sir?”

“You’d please me more with your cunt around my cock.”

“Yes, sir.”

She stays flat against the counter as Bellamy undoes his pants behind her. She glances over her shoulder, though she’s really not supposed to, but she’s desperate to see it. He notices her looking, and before she can quickly whip her head back around and pretend she hadn’t been peeking, he takes her gently by the arm and turns her around. He crashes his lips against hers, pushing her hard against the counter, and Clarke kisses him back, though he’s gone completely off script. He’s supposed to fuck her from behind, not kiss her like it’s the climax of a romance movie.

He breaks the kiss, and Clarke thinks she can see an apology in his eyes. For changing the direction, or for everything else, Clarke doesn’t know. He drops his pants then, and then his cock is jutting up between them, since he’s not wearing underwear.

Clarke’s cunt throbs. God, he’s magnificent. No wonder he’s starring in porn with a cock like that.

“Please, Mr Roberts, how will I ever fit it inside me?” Clarke says, teasing. Bellamy raises an eyebrow, and she can’t tell if he’s amused or unimpressed. Well, if he’s going off script, why shouldn’t she? And Josie hasn’t called cut, or told them to knock it off yet, so she figures some improv is allowed.

“We won’t know unless we try,” he says, vague smirk on his lips. It’s almost like—they’re having fun.

A condom appears from somewhere, and the lube labelled as cleaning product (Clarke sincerely hopes no one takes sex advice from this), and Clarke watches as Bellamy rolls the condom onto his cock, then coat himself with lube. She’d like to help, but that _definitely_ isn’t in Josie’s direction, and Clarke figures they’ve improvised enough today.

“Spread your legs,” Bellamy growls, finally going back to their rehearsed lines. “And no coming until I say so.”

“Yes, sir,” Clarke gulps. He kisses her again, oddly sweet and chaste for a porno, and then he flips her back over so her tits are pressed against the counter again. His cock bumps against her entrance, and Clarke squirms.

“So wet,” Bellamy murmurs, so quietly Clarke wonders if he meant to say it at all.

“Please,” Clarke whimpers. Also not something she’s supposed to say, but fuck if she isn’t desperate for him.

He pushes into her, and Clarke moans, low and long. “Oh my god, please,” she gasps. “Fuck me, fuck me.”

He bottoms out, and she’s so full of him, her pussy spasming around him, aching for more. Fuck, he feels good inside her. Even if their friendship is ruined after this, she hopes they can keep shooting porn together. Because there is no fucking way she’s going the rest of her life without experiencing this again.

She hears him groan, the sound making her clit twinge. “Please,” she whispers again. “B—Mr Roberts.”

His huge hands hold her down as he pumps his cock inside her. There’s no acting involved on Clarke’s part, every breathy moan, every desperate whine is her own. He winds her up, and she can feel the pressure building, coiling inside her, ready to burst. She has to hold off as long as possible. They’re supposed to change positions again before she comes.

But she can’t help it. She writhes beneath him, her eyes squeezed shut, clenching her cunt, trying to stop herself from coming as his cock pounds into her.

“I’m about to come,” she squeaks. “Bell, oh my god, I’m coming, I’m coming—” she cries out, cutting herself off, her orgasm shuddering through her body as she arches up off the counter, her toes curling.

“Shit,” she hears him swear. “Fuck, Clarke, fuck—” His hips jerk against her, and from his low groan, she’s pretty sure he just came too.

“Cut!” Josie calls, clearly annoyed. Clarke lies there on the counter, panting, Bellamy’s cock still inside her, his chest pressed against her back, his hands stroking her sides. He presses a kiss to her shoulder, and her stomach flips over.

“I said cut,” Josie huffs. Bellamy gets up and pulls away from her. Clarke immediately misses him inside her. She feels so empty without him.

“Sorry,” Clarke mutters, standing up. “I didn’t mean to fuck it up.”

Josie rolls her eyes. “It’s fine, we can make it work. I just wish you guys hadn’t said each other’s _real names_. Amateurs. Go clean yourselves up.”

Clarke nods, face and body covered in a deep blush as she grabs her robe and skitters off to the bathroom. She takes her time in the bathroom, not ready to go and face Bellamy just yet. But she knows she can’t stay locked in the bathroom forever, and she’s pretty sure Josie is going to want to talk to the both of them.

Dread in the pit of her stomach, Clarke quietly tiptoes back towards the kitchen, stopping in the doorway when she hears Josie say, “I guess that’s why you turned me down, huh?”

She’s talking to Bellamy, and neither of them have realised Clarke is there yet, so she ducks out of sight, suddenly desperate to hear the rest of this conversation. Josie asked Bellamy out? And he turned her down?

“Don’t know what you mean,” Bellamy grunts.

“Please,” Josie scoffs. “You said there was someone else. It’s her, isn’t it?” Bellamy doesn’t answer. Clarke’s throat is dry, her heart pounding. “I figured you meant you had a girlfriend. But no, you’re just pathetically in love with your best friend.”

“I—” Bellamy starts. “Is it that obvious?” he whispers. Clarke’s stomach drops. He’s in _love_ with her? Impossible.

“Everyone who watches what you just filmed is going to think we were shooting a romance, not porn.”

“Do you think she knows?”

“She does now,” Josie says. “Considering she’s just outside this room eavesdropping on us.”

Clarke waits a second before stepping back into the doorway, guilty look on her face. Bellamy stares at her, stricken.

“Clarke—” he says. “Fuck.” He shoots a dirty look at Josie, who shrugs uncaringly.

“I don’t understand,” Clarke whispers. “I thought you were repulsed by me, that you didn’t want to fuck me.”

Bellamy laughs nervously, rubbing his face with his hand. “That was never it, Clarke. I just—I didn’t think I’d ever get the chance with you, and when I fantasised about it, it was never like _this_.” He gestures to Josie and the rest of the crew.

“You fantasised about me?” Clarke says.

He shrugs, looking embarrassed. “Sorry,” he whispers.

“I love you too,” she says quickly. “I’m in love with you too.”

He looks up, astonished, and she beams at him. She must run to him, or maybe he runs to her, because a moment later they’re crashing into each other, lips meeting messily, clinging to each other desperately.

“Save it for the camera, please!” Josie says, forcing them to break apart, both grinning.

“We could just make our own homemade porn,” Clarke says. “We don’t even need Josie.”

“No one is going to pay you as well as I do, blondie,” Josie huffs. “But I’ll tell you what—since you two have such great chemistry, I won’t make you work with anyone else, unless we’re doing a threesome, deal?”

“Deal,” Clarke agrees.

“Who’s the third?” Bellamy asks.

“How about me?” Josie grins.


End file.
